Sorry. I just had to add one thought to the day.
Today is the day, thirty-nine years ago, that J.R.R. Tolkien passed away. I had never heard of him, though I was of age when he was publishing The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings, even the Silmarillion. I never heard of him until I took my three children to see Bakshi's The Lord of the Rings film in 1978. That film covered only the first part of the LotR trilogy. When it ended, I went home and bought the book and began reading it to the children. I was hooked. I kept waiting for the next movie, but, of course, it never came. I discovered that The Hobbit was written by Tolkien and bought that. My five-year old granddaughter and I finished reading it this past spring.
I had always been a sci-fi reader; now my heart turned to fantasy. When the first Jackson LotR movie came out in 2001, I joined a fanclub and read fun fiction by its members. They spurred me on to try my own hand at it.
Whether or not I ever get any of my books published, I owe the joy I've felt in writing to J. R.R. Tolkien..
So I am taking this moment to thank him. He inspired, and inspires me.
Life is inspiring.